It’s no surprise that we’re in the early stages of a devastating clergy shortage in Canada. This has been a crucial issue for decades, but we’ve kept it simmering on the back burner. It’s time to turn up the heat and stir the pot on this conversation because the results will be devastating if we don’t.

In a recent article in Faith Today, Rick Hiemstra issued a stark wake-up call about the pastor shortage. His estimation is chilling: the Canadian evangelical movement will need to train 625 new pastors annually to keep pace with retiring reverends. And this doesn’t even account for pastors who leave ministry for other reasons.

How close are we to keeping up with the demand? My most generous guess is that Canada’s ministry training colleges or seminaries might produce between 100 and 200 pastors each year. And while ministry training does occur in other formats, and we are receiving some imports from different countries, I’ll bet my bicycle that we’re not reaching half of Hiemstra’s predicted need. And I really like my bike.

Before jumping to solutions, it’s essential first to identify the problems causing the shortage. Hiemstra does this deftly and gives multiple reasons. Boomers are retiring. More seminary students are choosing to study counselling rather than pastoral ministry. Fewer young people are pursuing ministry careers. Covid may have accelerated the departure of some pastors. And finally – his most detailed argument – it’s hard to make a living as a pastor.

I won’t attempt to add to Hiemstra’s explanations. Instead, I intend to add more nuance to his inquiry.

And so, the question. Why are fewer YOUNG PEOPLE pursuing careers in ministry?

The Usual Suspects

One general factor that cannot be ignored is that the pool of emerging adults who keep their faith continues to diminish every year in Canada. We’ve known for decades that religious ‘nones and dones’ are on the rise, and there is gallons of statistical evidence supporting this claim. Even so, the pool of young people who might consider ministry training is drying up.

Becoming a ministry leader isn’t even on the radar of most emerging adults as they ponder that all-too-important question, “What are you going to do with your life?” Yes, some older adults are changing careers and diving into seminary, but younger adults are less likely to test the waters of ministry.

Another important factor is the growing distrust young people have toward the church. The church is under much public scrutiny for its recent and past failures, from ruined mega-church pastors to residential schools. There’s also a general societal malaise of distrust toward most institutions. The postmodern turn has left us all spinning with the oversimplified notion that most of our woes are caused by systemic power abuses rather than individual human agency. It’s definitely in vogue to keep the church in the doghouse along with a long list of other institutions.

Hiemstra further suggests that the rising cost of living plays a part in the shortage. I agree that this is a significant roadblock. Inflation is jacking the price of housing. Meanwhile, post-secondary education costs continue to rise in Canada, and Christian higher education often costs more than a standard college degree. This has little to do with mismanagement or greed. Trust me, if you want to make bank, don’t become a professor in a theological school. The rising tuitions (especially in ministry training schools) have more to do with inflation and a diminishing donor base. Theological schools don’t receive the same government funding as secular colleges and rely heavily on donors and tuition fees to keep their doors open.

How does this affect future pastors? Their education will probably cost more, and they will definitely make less money than those with similar levels of education. So, the prospect of working for peanuts while carrying tens of thousands of dollars in student loans isn’t a huge selling feature for most young people.

But disillusionment, spiritual apathy, and finances only tell part of the story.

The Hedonic Shift

I suggest that a root cause is a cultural shift in our social imaginary. For many, God has been displaced by a hedonistic worldview. Happiness has become our true and ultimate aim in life. We want to be happy, and we want those we care about to be happy because a good life is a happy life. Full disclosure . . . I’m leaning on Dr. Andrew Root and his writings to make this argument.

This displacement crept into our moral imaginations as a result of secularism. Humans are meaning makers and meaning seekers. As Charles Taylor argues, when we collapse the vertical transcendent frame (God and the world beyond), all that remains is the imminent horizontal frame (stars, dust, and molecules). To find meaning, we stop casting our gaze heavenward. Instead, we must look sideways, pursuing meaning in this natural life while it still lasts. Our disenchantment with the divine opens the door for us to reorder our values however we see fit.

So, where did this disenchantment lead? For many, it has led them into hedonism. I realize that the label ‘hedonist’ sounds like too harsh an indictment, with foreboding consequences – like we should be fleeing the city, glancing over our shoulders, while dodging raining sulphur. But hedonists simply believe that pleasure is the highest good and the proper aim of human life. To be a hedonist, you don’t need to be chasing fast times, hard liquor, and loose living. For most, hedonism looks more like seventy-inch flat screens, vanilla lattes, and exotic vacations. It’s not what you do that makes you a hedonist. It’s what you’re aiming at.

Sadly, the church isn’t immune to this contagious virus. For so many believers, happiness has become their aim. Faithfulness to God is no longer their target; instead, faith has become an asset that gets them to their true and proper aim: happiness.

A telltale test may be to ask a group of church parents, “What do you want most for your children in life?” I imagine that many may say, “I want my children to be happy, to have a good life, to be successful at whatever they do.” They may be less likely to say, “I just want my children to be faithful to God no matter what they do.” Of course, the question isn’t a perfect litmus test. Hedonism is far more insidious than that, and even the best parents can lie to themselves. You don’t have to be a card-carrying hedonist to be a hedonist. You may have the virus and not even be aware of it. A better test may be to examine one’s family schedule and financial priorities. This is the nose swab that gives you the best results. You can learn a lot from a person’s credit card statements. They may not be a card-carrying hedonist but more likely a practical hedonist.

Andrew Root laments this hedonic shift in his book, “The End of Youth Ministry?” He asked several parents why youth ministry wasn’t a priority for them or their children:

While none of the parents I talked with were hedonistic in the swinging from the chandelier way, they all conceded that happiness was their summum bonum; it was their highest good . . . Their deepest wish wasn’t that their children would be virtuous but that they would be happy. On a continuum, they all slid hard toward the hedonistic pole rather than the eudaimonic. Youth ministry could only be an add-on because each of these families moved on hedonistic tracks, making happiness their end. They all hoped their children had character, but again, not as an end but as a means of being (always) happy.

For so many parents, faithfulness isn’t the thing they’re after. It’s the thing that gets them to the thing they’re after. What they’re really after is happiness. Faith is more of an asset and less of an aim.  

At this point, you may be wondering why I’m talking about parents more than young people. Parents have more sway over their children’s futures than ever before. Most of today’s teens and emerging adults are in the Generation Z age cohort (b. 1995-2012). It’s the slowest developing generation in Western history – perhaps even world history. Most are postponing independence from their parents, many into their late twenties. Jean Twenge winsomely argues that they are extending adolescence and childhood in what she calls a “slow-life strategy.” This strategy halts independence, allowing young people to take their time growing up. Gen Zs are also less likely to fight with their parents and more willing to seek their advice.

This means that parental engagement is at an all-time high for this cohort. Gen Z leans heavily on their parents when making adult decisions and life choices. If Gen Z aren’t being protected by hovering helicopter parents, they’re running behind snowplow parents who are clearing the way for their futures. This assistance can sometimes border on the ridiculous. I know of one parent who advocated for a better grade on behalf of their child – who happened to be a third-year college student. And then there’s the story of the mom who went with her twenty-year-old son to a job interview . . . I could go on and on.

We cannot ignore the role that parents play in their children’s futures. If parents are closet hedonists, they will naturally steer their children away from pursuits that will jeopardize their happiness.

Happiness Look Like...?

I propose that this shift in our moral imaginations has manifested into two sacred cultural values: safety and security.

Allow me to begin with safety. I recall the old merry-go-round from my childhood neighbourhood with its rusty metal bars and squeaking cries. It was a tetanus shot and a trip to the emergency room waiting to happen, but it had an allure that soaked up hours of repetitive play from my east-side homies. It was glorious. These contraptions are now almost extinct on playgrounds. Most parents today would hesitate before letting their child near one, at least not without first uttering a responsible “be careful” warning.

For many parents, safety for their children is their highest concern – almost a sacred value. What began in the 80s as an effort to minimize physical harm has now morphed into a social movement that is hyper-fixated on emotional safety, complete with safe spaces and trigger warnings. As a result, kids these days are more fragile than ever. It’s a phenomenon that Lukianoff and Haidt first coined as ‘safetyism’ in their book The Coddling of the American Mind. Haidt has since expanded his research and thinking on this phenomenon in his recently published book, The Anxious Generation. I recommend this as a must-read for any parent. He grieves the end of play-based childhood, the rise of screen-based childhood, and its effects on emerging generations.

Play is the work of childhood, and all young mammals have the same job: Wire up your brain by playing vigorously and often. Hundreds of studies on young rats, monkeys, and humans show that young mammals want to play—need to play—and become socially, cognitively, and emotionally impaired when they are deprived of play.

We dress our children in bubble wrap and hockey helmets to play duck-duck-goose in the backyard. Or we stand at the edge of the lawn like a prison guard with a shotgun, poised to intervene should things get a little rough. And if that doesn’t work, we plop our kids in front of a screen that gives them instant access to anything and everything (the good, the bad, and the grotesque) with minimal protection or monitoring – and assume they’re safe. It’s a strange parenting world.

When safetyism becomes a sacred cultural value, trumping everything else, parents will sacrifice anything to keep their children from emotional harm. And shame on parents who give their kids real-world freedom without hovering.

The other expression of our hedonistic imagination is security. Gen Z and their parents feel like the cards are stacked against them. They are deeply concerned about inflation, the rising cost of housing, paying off student loans, the job market, and being able to support a family.

As a parent who raised two daughters, I was (and am) concerned about my brood’s future security. From the moment they were born, my wife and I wanted them to go to college and find jobs that would keep them out of poverty. We also hoped and prayed that they would marry capable, responsible young men who love Jesus. I’m thankful that our prayers were answered for both of my daughters. Especially since now, if a car breaks down, a certain Sir Galahad is waiting in the wings to rescue them (and I can stay at home and read a book). That’s security that not even money can buy.

What’s the problem with placing a high value on security? Nothing. It’s a basic human need. It’s near the bottom rung of Maslow’s hierarchy, and its significance for human flourishing is undeniable. However, I wonder if the kind of security we’re striving for today far outstrips the type of security posited by Maslow. Basic safety and security needs have more to do with food, shelter, and clothing than with the latest iPhone and a dependable car.

We’re often richer than we think. If you make $40,000 Canadian annually in a single-income home, you are wealthier than 95% of the world’s population. You can do the math on your home income here. Many young adults assume that their standard of living should pick up where their parents left off. The security we’re chasing after may be more hedonistic than we perceive. Security is a good thing, but even a good thing can become a god-thing. And as the old saying goes, when it becomes a god-thing, it becomes a bad thing.

What's wrong with safety and security?

If safety and security are our most sacred values for the culture and the church, then we have a problem. The issue is that safety and security are antithetical to the gospel, mission, and ministry.

Ministry is not always safe. Ministry will not provide as much financial security as other careers. What parent who embraces these sacred values would ever want their child to be in ministry? They risk persecution, conflict, burnout, low social prestige, and sometimes hardship. It’s not even on the map for most parents; they never want their children to go there because “here be dragons.”

And yet . . .

Where would the church be today if Paul decided to play it safe? He faced “dangers from rivers, dangers from robbers, dangers from [his] own people, dangers from Gentiles, dangers in the city, dangers in the wilderness, dangers at sea, and dangers among false brothers” (2 Cor 11:26, CSB). Wouldn’t avoiding shipwrecks, stonings, and sleepless nights have been better?

Imagine if Stephen valued security so much that he decided to keep his mouth shut. Would the church have hunkered down in Jerusalem rather than being vaulted into its global mission through persecution?

What about the heroes of the faith in Hebrews 11 who were mocked, scourged, and sawn in two? They did not have safe spaces or trigger warnings.

And yet . . . the world was not worthy of them.

So, what is to be done? How do we put ministry back on the map? How do we turn up the heat on this issue?

Before jumping to solutions, I want to surface another boulder hindering young people from considering ministry. I’ll address this in my next blog post.

Originally published at https://robchartrand.com/2024/09/17/why-are-young-canadians-not-considering-ministry/

For more information on this topic and many others, you can listen to our podcast, Church in the North.

Did you know a young person who is being called to vocational ministry?

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Students in the program can choose one concentration for study: Youth Studies, Children’s Studies, Pastoral Studies, or Worship Arts. Each concentration has specialized courses pertaining to that field of study.

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